Come What May
by loneguppy
Summary: Before joining the X-Files, Monica and John had a casual night out together in New York.


Dress casual, she says. John looked at himself in the mirror disapprovingly. The blue dress shirt was business attire, and far too formal. He reached into his closet for a coffee colored pullover. Better. Much more comfortable at least. He picked up his jacket and decided to leave his car keys before heading out.

Monica took a drag from a cigarette she had bummed off of the bartender, then exhaled slowly. She was trying to quit, so it didn't make sense to buy a whole pack of Morley's just to have one smoke. Besides, she only needed it to calm her nerves. The wait was giving her stomach the butterflies.

She had worked a case with John once, since his kid's murder all those years ago. Although he had not reached out to her before, she had a sense that he liked her. She liked him too. Monica hoped hanging out to have drinks will not scare him away.

After one more drag, she extinguished the butt in an ashtray. He was here. She stood up to get his attention.

John waved 'hi' to her.

Monica waved right back.

It was raining lightly outside. He brushed his sleeves and shook water off his head before coming completely into the bar.

John looked her over. He liked the ruffled top she was wearing. It went well with her denim jeans. The retro look suited her. He hadn't been with other women, since things ended between Barbara and him. He wasn't sure how he should compliment Monica on her outfit.

"You look nice."

After a quick embrace, they sat down at a nearby booth.

"What are you having?" he asked.

"An ale."

Raising two fingers John ordered the drinks from their waiter.

"It's good to see you again," they both said at the same time.

This sent them into a state of laughter.

After the waiter brought two glasses of Guinness draft, Monica raised hers in a toast.

"Congratulations on getting your first posting at the FBI."

"I'll drink to that."

Monica started telling him how long she had been working in New York. Then John shared with her what he thought of FBI work.

"A little tedious at times."

They both laughed some more.

By the time they finished another round of ale, they moved on to shots.

"Really?"

"Yeah! I may not have been a trained sniper, but I was pretty fast with a knuckle ball. I don't think the suspect even knew what hit him."

A little while later, when they had finished drinking, a companionable silence fell between them. Monica her chin propped up with one hand, started to ruminate about her field of expertise. He was so attentive. _Why couldn't Brad be like that?_ She couldn't help make the comparison.

"In most cultures, there was always a clear divide between good and evil."

John leaned his head back against the seat. He found himself completely mesmerized by the sound of her voice. He didn't quite register what she had to say though.

"Take the Chinese for instance. Eighteen levels of the underworld. Eternal suffering for the soul. All ruled by once human warlords."

"Huh!?"

John was lost to what was just said. The topic had apparently changed. Monica had a smile on her face.

"I said. Do you believe in extraterrestrials?"

"As in E.T? … Aliens? … No. I can't say I do."

"I had a premonition recently, where I saw a light. … I think it was a UFO. … You were there and … ."

"Me?" John was leaning forward now.

"Yeah. I know. It seems a bit farfetched," Monica said laughing. "I can't help think what it might mean."

At the end of the evening, after last call, after the bar has closed. Only Monica and John remained. They waited at the curb for a taxi.

"I had a great time," they both said at the same time.

Monica smiled.

Something that John hadn't felt inside, in a long time, stirred.

"Look. … Will I see you again?"

"I don't know when. … I'm transferring to the New Orleans field office, in a few days."

" … New Orleans? … Why? … For how long?"

Monica ran a hand through her hair, her head hung low, so she wouldn't have to look John in the face.

"Don't ask," she pleaded.

An awkward silence preceded the arrival of the taxi cab.

"Well," sighed John. "Take care of yourself."

Monica nodded.

Just as she was about to climb into the backseat, she turned around and held John's cheeks to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Her hand had dropped down to touch his hand before she left.

All the while, John let go of the breath he had been holding. _I'll be … ._ He then smiled. There was a promise of something more in her touch.

He whistled a tune as he turned to walk home.

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **I have always wanted to write a fanfic for John and Monica. Having re-watched 5 episodes, I have come up with a light little scene where they crossed paths just before The X-Files.**


End file.
